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The Raptor

(Based on "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe)

Once upon a /trash/ thread dreary, post-fap feeling weak and weary,

Over many a hot and sexy fapfic of hand holding claw,

In the afterglow, just basking, and my breathing came out rasping,

Someone came a rapping, rapping on my bedroom door.

"'Tis some delivery," I muttered, "tapping on my bedroom door--

"Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember the onset of no-nut-November;

And each separate private browser wrought its glow along the floor,

Eagerly I wished the 'morrow;-- vainly I had sought to follow,

sex toy cleaning guides in shame--the shame of no lizard waifus galore,

For the rare, pure reptile maiden covered with scales galore,

Nameless here, forever more.

The simple, sad, uncertain rustling of each sun-blocking curtain,

Thrilled me-- filled me with fantastic fear-boners never felt before,

So that now to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,

"'Tis my Bad Dragon delivery being set against the door--

"A very late delivery from Bad Dragon, against the door--

"Simply this and nothing more."

Presently, my cock grew stronger, soft and limpen then no longer,

"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

"But the fact that I was fa- uh- napping, and so gently you came rapping,

"and so faintly you came tapping, tapping on my bedroom door,

"that I scarce was sure I heard you"-- here I opened wide the door;--

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood rock-hard yet fearing,

Doubting, fantasising what no mortal should dare to dream before,

But with nothing there for false affection, and as I feel my lost erection,

Yet before falling in abjection call out "where's my sex-toy silicone jaw?"

This I called, and an echo bounced on back "-cone jaw?"--

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into my bedroom turning, all my sexual frustration burning,

Soon I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

"Damn it," said I, "must be a raven 'gainst the window lattice;

Let's see, then, if thereat is, for I this feathered fiend abhor--

Let my dick be still a moment and this intrusion explore;--

'Tis a raven, nothing more."

Then, as the windows clatter, when, with many a chirp and chatter,

In here did leap a slinky raptor from the ancient days of yore;

Not the least bit obedient was she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;

But with pomp of drake or lady, leapt atop my bedroom door--

Claws dug in a poster of an argonian whore--

Latched and still and nothing more.

Then this feathery girl beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the wild and lusty decorum of the countenance she wore,

"Though thy 'boot' be shorn and shaven, thou" I said, "art sure no craven,

sexy, perky, curvy raptor wandering from the nightly shore--

Tell me what thy pretty name is on this night's smut-like shore!"

Quoth the raptor "you like vore?"

Much I balked at this ungainly girl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though her answer little pleasure-- little enjoyment dids't I bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being,

Ever yet was blessed with cute raptors above his bedroom door--

Girl or beast upon the scaly bust of histborn above my bedroom door

With the awful question, "you like vore?"

But the raptor, clinging lonely on the scaly bust, spoke only,

That one kink, as if her soul in that one kink she did outpour.

Nothing further than she uttered--not a feather then she fluttered--

'Til I scarcely more than muttered, "other girls had shit taste before--

On the morrow she will leave me, and my kinks ignored before."

Then the girl said, "how 'bout gore?"

Startled by the horror spoken as my faintest hopes were broken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what she utters is to shock, hardcore,

caught from some shit-kink owners with crappy taste for boners,

followed fast and followed faster 'til their fetishes she bore--

'Til the dirges of their antics that melancholy burden bore--

Of awful vore'n'gore."

But the raptor still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I threw a beanbag in front of raptor, poster and door;

Then, upon fabric sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy into fancy, thinking of this cute predator of yore--

What this toned, fanciful, scale and feathered lizardly dinosaur,

Is doing croaking "you like vore?"

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing,

To the girl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with dick in hand, reclining,

On my lotion-clad tissue lining that the screen light gloated o'er,

That whose lotion-clad tissue lining with the raptor looking o'er,

She shall glance and mayhap explore.

Then, methought, the air grew tenser, my dick coulds't be used by a fencer,

Swung by scalefolk whose clawed footfalls clack upon the floor,

"Wretch," I cried, "thy god hath lent thee-- by these scaly angels sent thee,

Respite-- and dismissing of thy fetishes, vore and gore,

I scoff! I scoff at thy ignoble tastes of vore and gore!"

Quoth the raptor, "Those both and more!"

"Vile!" Said I, "despite cloaca-- vile still, raptor or faker!--

Whatever tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore--

Desolate yet all undaunted, on these debased kinks thy hath flaunted--

On this room degeneracy tainted-- tell me truly, I implore!

Is there-- IS there purity within!? Claw holding!? I beg thee, I implore!"

Quoth the raptor, "what a bore..."

"Filth!" I spit, "no scaled wife-- vile still, temptress of strife!--

By that heaven that bends above us--by the Goddard be adored--

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within distant scaled haven,

It shall clasp a scaly maiden with open, eager claw--

Grasp a pure, unsullied maiden, of feather, scale and claw!"

Quoth the raptor, "blood and gore!"

"Be those words our words of parting, beclawed fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--

"Get thee back into the tempest, you filth-spawned, wretched whore!

Leave no fine plume as a token of that tripe thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken! Quit the poster 'bove the door!

Take thy teeth from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"

Chimed the raptor, "same size vore!"

And the raptor, never flitting, still is sitting, STILL is sitting

On the hot argonian poster just above my bedroom door;

And her eyes have all the taunting of a shitposter's primal flaunting,

And the screenlight casts her shadow oh so tempting, curves galore

But my soul is cracked and broken from the vile kinks in store

No pure scaly; Nevermore.